


(Not) Knowing What's Best

by DryCereal



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Another "Dan in hospital" fic, Cos she is, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I NEARLY DIED. (not), Kath Lester MVP, Kick-ass Kath, M/M, Questionable pre-surgery choices, Sick Dan Howell, Sickfic, Worried Phil Lester, clickbait vid title. (not), sickness/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 20:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14755763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryCereal/pseuds/DryCereal
Summary: So what DO you do when your boyfriend refuses to tell his family he's 1; ill, 2; in hospital and 3; having surgery in the morning?Phil doesn't know either.OR:Phil's POV of that time Dan had surgery.





	(Not) Knowing What's Best

They must design hospital chairs to be this uncomfortable. Phil's sure it can't just be an unfortunate coincidence. Even if this chair in the side room on the ward was a step up from the cold plastic bolted-down benches in A&E they'd spent an unpleasant couple of hours the previous evening huddling on, avoiding eye contact with anyone but each other.

Thankfully, after Dan had been called in to be seen the first time, they'd been left in a cubicle whilst the doctors and nurses ran tests, and they'd both sat on the trolley, Dan still with his face buried in Phil's neck, even if there’d been no one and no further needles to hide from. 

To be honest, there hadn't been much to look at, neither the plain blue curtain blocking their view of the rest of the A&E department, and its view of them, the counter, closed cupboards underneath and the pale walls, neutral colours faded further by time and being cleaned regularly. The only thing of any interest was the monitor alongside the trolley showing Dan's information along with his heart rate, blood pressure and a few other numbers Phil wasn't sure of.

He'd spent a while idly watching the line tracking Dan's heartbeat zigzag its way across the screen, then after the nurse had taken some blood samples, he'd studied it intently after realising the fingers gently carding through his boyfriends hair were having an effect on both his heart rate and blood pressure. Both readings seemed to be going down at least, and that seemed to be confirmed by the thumbs up and wink the nurse gave him the next time he stuck his head through the curtain.

They'd kicked him out for the night once Dan was admitted and taken up to the ward. It'd been hard to leave Dan there on his own, not just because he'd practically needed a crowbar to escape the vice-like grip on his hand that had been present since the word "surgery" had first been mentioned. It'd taken a promise that he'd be outside the doors waiting to be allowed in first thing in the morning, with a few things from home and the pressing of the phone charger he'd thought to grab before coming to the hospital into Dan's other hand with a reminder that he'd answer, whatever time it was before he'd managed to peel himself away after pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, then whispering "I love you, see you soon" before turning and walking away off the bay quickly. If there'd been a couple of audible sniffles as he'd walked down the corridor out of the ward, the Sister had been kind enough not to comment, in fact all she'd said after telling him what time visiting hours usually were, smiling kindly as they reached the entrance to the ward was "We'll look after him, try not to worry" before the door had swung shut and locked automatically behind him.

Each step away from those doors along the maze of corridors towards the lifts had felt like he was pulling against about a million individual rubber bands, stretching and straining, trying to force him back towards Dan, each step had seemed more difficult than the one before. That feeling hadn’t let up til the lift doors slid shut, in fact it had seemed more like they were all cut, all at once, leaving Phil to half-lean, half-collapse against the mirrored wall, closing his eyes tightly and breathing rapidly as he’d fought to steady himself amid the swirling emotions threatening to pull him under.

As the doors had opened, revealing yet _another_ deserted corridor, he’d lurched unsteadily away from the wall, pulling his phone from his pocket as he hurried towards the main entrance. By the time he’d left the building, he’d written and deleted three separate messages to Dan, the first rejected for being unfairly (he’d thought on reflection) needy, considering their current circumstances, the second for being joking-too-close-to-the-edge-of-mean, and the third... well, Dan needed to _rest_. Hopefully he was already sleeping, and he hadn’t wanted to disturb him if he had been.

With an exasperated sigh, he’d closed the messaging app on his phone, and opened Notes, thinking he may as well try and come up with a list of things he’d need to bring back to the hospital the following morning. He didn’t get far, too preoccupied with worrying about what tomorrow would bring to think sensibly beyond just making sure he saw Dan before they took him down to theatre, just... because he had to. Not just because he’d _promised_ , but because he **needed** to.

Irritated with himself after the list-writing stalled after “PJs” “washbag” and “bear” (which had been erased and re-typed no less than three times) he’d virtually _thrown_ himself onto the bench in the bus shelter outside the hospital, and glared at the illuminated, but blank advertisement board as if it was the cause of Dan’s ill health. When that hadn’t made him feel any better, with a resigned sigh he’d scrolled through his contacts and hit “call.”

He didn’t wait for his mother to finish before interrupting the practiced speech he’d had drummed into him since he was old enough to answer the phone, cringing slightly when he realised instead of the calm, relaxed “Hi Mum, hope I’m not interrupting anything...?” he was aiming for, he sounded every bit as tired and stressed as he felt.

“Phil?”

“Yes Mum?”

“What’s wrong? Don’t say nothing, you’ve called for a reason, I can tell.”

He’s aware that he draws in a very shaky breath before he speaks again, but once he starts, instead of the edited version of the day’s events since he arrived home to find Dan, for once not throwing himself at Phil as he came through the door, instead curled up whimpering softly every so often on the sofa, barely coherent and completely piteous; he finds himself letting everything loose down the phone line. He does feel at least a little better, having been able to tell someone, whether because he knows his Mum, both his parents in fact would always do anything they could to help, even if it is just to listen, or to offer some always-valued advice or reassurance.  
  
There’s a brief pause, where all Phil hears is the sound of his own shaky breathing, before he hears his mother inhale.  
  
“Oh _love_ …”  
  
“Mum, please… I just don’t know what…”  
  
“Phil, sweetheart, you’ve done everything right. You’ve done everything you could for Dan tonight – the doctors can get him better from here. He’ll be just fine.”  
  
“But what if...”  
  
“You listen to me. He will be fine. I know you’re scared, Dan will be too, but he’ll be right as rain in a few days, you’ll see.”  
  
“Th-thanks Mum. I just felt awful leaving him there tonight on his own.”  
  
“Oh darling I know it’s not easy. But he needs to rest before the operation tomorrow, and you need to get yourself home and eat and sleep too. Let the hospital look after Dan, you focus on you now. When are Dan’s parents arriving? They on their way up now, or waiting til morning?”  
  
“Well, ummm…”  
  
It’s immediately as awkward as the moment when Dan had been asked for details of his next of kin earlier, back in A&E. He’d insisted on giving Phil’s details, determined both that he didn’t want to worry his parents, and that he wanted Phil to be allowed to stay with him. Their brief but whispered discussion had drawn some suspicion from the nurse taking his information, and it had taken producing Dan’s driving license from his wallet to prove he was over 18 and entitled to make his own decisions.  
  
Phil had managed to convince him to give his parents information, along with his own, but Dan had fiercely refused all of Phil’s suggestions to call and let his parents know what was going on. Even after he found out about the upcoming surgery. Phil hadn’t been happy, but he’d acquiesced and backed down, not wanting to cause a scene in the bustling ward. He hadn’t raised the subject once Dan was admitted to the hospital proper, focussing on trying to remain calm and upbeat as he was preparing to leave Dan for the night.  
  
“Phil…?” his Mum pushes through the silence that has fallen on the call.  
  
“Mum, Dan didn’t want to wor-“  
  
“Philip Michael Les...” and that’s all it takes. It may as well be twenty years ago, and he’s stood next to Martyn in front of the fireplace in their lounge, twisting his fingers together staring at the worn carpet as they’re scolded roundly for whatever they’d just been caught doing.  
  
“Mum, I tried telling him but…”  
  
“But **nothing** , Philip. The Howells need to know Dan’s ill, that he is in hospital having surgery in the morning. I know Dan doesn’t confide in them as much as you do with us, but they need to know. And they need to know as soon as possible. Even if it isn’t Dan that tells them, if he’s being stubborn.”  
  
“Mum, please... I know, okay? But...”

“No ‘but’s. What do you think I’d do if you’d ended up ill in hospital and no one had told me?”

“You’d go spare.”

“Exactly. Look. Dan’s sick, he’s tired. You said yourself you don’t think he’s slept much, if at all while you were down south, and definitely not last night. He’s not thinking, I know he thinks he’ll be just fine and this’ll all blow over, but what if…”

“Mum, please…! Don’t…!” He can’t continue that thought, because, well, what _if_ …?! He suddenly feels sick, like he can’t breathe properly, as his eyes prickle uncomfortably. He curls into himself, as he fights to keep his composure, all too aware he’s out in public, on his own.

“Phil, love” she interrupts; seemingly knowing, understanding his hesitance on the matter, “do you want me to phone Karen, let her know and offer them a place to stay when they come up?”  
  
“Mum… Thanks, but… I think I’d better be the one to do it, to phone… right? But what if Dan.. what if he finds out that I…”  
  
“Phil, he might be mad. But given a bit of time, when he’s feeling better, he’ll know that you’ve done the right thing for him. His parents will definitely appreciate you telling them. Maybe tell them he didn’t want them to be worried, and that he doesn’t know you called.”  
  
“Hmm. I’ll try. OK Mum. I’ll phone them when I get back to the flat. Promise.”  
  
“ _There’s_ my Phil. You feeling better for getting that out?”  
  
“A bit. Thanks Mum. What do you think he’ll need for tomorrow?”  
  
“Besides you?”  
  
“Ha, yeah, ‘sides me.”  
  
After another few minutes chatting, he hangs up in time to see the bus approaching. The journey home passes in a blur, not just because of the few tears that do quietly slip down his cheeks before being scrubbed away roughly with his jacket sleeve.  
  
He orders a pizza when he gets to the flat, does his best to eat when it arrives, before shoving the two-thirds remaining in the box into the fridge with a sigh. He’s managed to pack some things ready to return to the hospital in the morning; his laptop, 3DS and some games, as well as clean pyjamas and toiletries for Dan. He’d shoved Lion in the bag too, thinking it’d make Dan smile to see him, as well as a bottle of Ribena and a pack of biscuits.  
  
True to his word, he’d sat down as soon as he’d got in and dialled a number he’d rarely dialled, and now never called these days, since Dan had moved to Manchester. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but the sense of relief once he’d hung up, after promising to keep in touch felt good in a way. One less thing to worry about, he supposed, though it didn’t take long for the guilt at going against Dan’s wishes to set in once he'd hung up.  
  
No matter that he knew what he’d done was for the best, he worried what his boyfriend’s reaction would be, and he practically choked on his food when his phone chimed with an incoming message. Once he’d recovered, and drained his glass, he reached toward the phone, hoping like hell he hadn’t already been busted.

  * There’s a guy across from me, he WON’T STOP MOANING. Can’t sleep. Miss you <3



  
He can’t help but laugh out loud at the message. Not just because of its content, but more in relief at what it **didn’t** say.

 

  * Moaning? Like how? I miss you too. Wish they’d let me stay. <3 <3 <3



 

  * Idk… he’s prob in pain or something, but it sounds like he’s… Never mind.



 

  * Don’t wanna know. (tell me tomorrow.) GET SOME SLEEP. <3



 

  * I’M TRYING. :P



 

  * I cant sleep either. Flat’s too empty, and the bed’s cold.



           

  * Aww, poor philly. Come bust me out of this disinfectant hell-hole and I’ll warm it up for you. Deal?



 

  * Idk... Some of those nurses were terrifying.



 

  * So you’re just gonna leave me here with them on my own?!



 

  * Yup. I mean, they’re prob nice to their vict... Patients.



 

  * Rude. I thought you loved me.



 

  * I do. But they were TERRIFYING.



 

  * You escaped once. You could do it again to rescue me I bet...



 

  * Yeah, but only because I left you behind to distract them.



 

  * You’re evil. I’m never talking to you again. (Love you)



 

  * Night dan. See you in the morning. Love you too <3



 

Reassured by the fact Dan feels well enough (probably due to the painkillers and other meds they’ve given him) to type texts, and joke in them too, Phil does manage to fall asleep not long after. Twice more in fact, when he wakes during the night, but the third time, whatever vague but scary nightmare wakes him leaves him unnerved enough that he wants to bury the wisps remaining now he’s awake with activity - calming down enough to sleep again seems downright impossible.

He doesn’t... can’t eat anything. The leftover pizza got binned in disgust as soon as he opened the fridge, and though he’d made himself a bowl of cereal, once he sits down on the sofa to eat it, it turns his stomach after one spoonful. He does pour the milk down the drain before scraping the cereal into the bin for once though, mindful of Dan’s rants on the horrors of “bin juice” in his absence even though he usually pays them no mind on any normal day.

He tries to dawdle a little, he doubts his chances of being able to talk his way back onto the ward to see Dan will be positively affected by turning up before the breakfast he knows Dan won’t be getting, but he fails. Spectacularly so. He’s back at the hospital before 8am, pacing outside the double doors that were still locked this early, pausing only to look beseechingly at the couple of staff members hurrying through the doors, obviously running late for the start of their shift, but they barely notice him, let alone beckon him through the doors before they click shut behind them. No matter how tempted, he isn’t going to sneak onto the ward and risk getting thrown out before he gets to see Dan.  
  
Soon enough, a porter arrives and is buzzed onto the ward. A few minutes later, he reappears, pushing a bed back towards the doors, towards Phil. And Dan’s lying in the bed. He smiles as soon as he sees Phil, and waves tiredly as he’s wheeled closer. As soon as the doors open, he’s reaching for Phil, and it might be melodramatic, but it feels like he’s able to breathe properly for the first time since the lift doors closed on him the night before.  
  
“You came.”  
  
“Promised I would, didn’t I?” he replies, smiling, as they grip hands tightly.  
  
“You did.” Dan says, as he leans back against the pillows, still holding onto Phil’s hand, although his grip does loosen slightly.  
  
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” he queries worriedly, keeping pace with the bed as they resume moving down the corridors towards the lift.  
  
“Well, I knew I’d be taking a nap today, so…” Dan quips tiredly, giving him a watery smile. Something inside Phil _lurches_ at that, and he goes to reassure Dan that he’ll be _just fine_ , but he’s beaten to it by Dan continuing in a small, quiet voice that Phil knows all too well, and absolutely hates hearing:  
  
“You’ll be here when I wake up, right?” And oh. How Phil wishes he was nimble enough to be able to keep walking, and also wrap Dan up in his arms tightly, chasing away as much of the worry they’re both clearly feeling right now, but he’s reduced to giving Dan’s hand an extra squeeze as he replies.  
  
“I’ll be here. Of **course** I’ll be here.”  
  
It’s at this point the nurse accompanying them interrupts, having gone largely unnoticed by either of them up until that point. She tells them both that Phil will be allowed to see Dan as soon as he’s settled back on the ward, but that it will be a few hours, so Phil should probably go and get something to eat and drink (here she pauses, as if she _knows_ …) before coming back. He takes it as the hint he knows it is, and when they leave the lift, he pauses, allows him… themselves a little moment as he runs the fingers of his free hand gently through Dan’s tousled fringe, pushing it back away from his face, before he presses their foreheads together, brushing a kiss against his lips quickly, before standing up straight.  
  
“I- I guess I’ll see you later then…” he says, willing himself not to cry, forcing his voice not to waver.  
  
“Yeah… umm, see you soon” Dan says, with one last squeeze of his hand before he lets it go, before he’s wheeled through another set of doors that Phil can’t go through.  
  
He sighs, and turns away quickly, going in search of some much-needed caffeine.  
  
Between then and now, he’s updated both his and Dan’s mother that he’s seen Dan, and that he’s gone for his operation, but that there’s been no word since then, and he did manage to force down a sandwich and a couple cups of coffee but most of the time, he’s busy distracting himself by people watching in the cafeteria. He manages to let two whole hours pass before he’s up back at the ward entrance, and this time they take pity on him, showing him into the room where he’s now sat.  
  
Every now and again, a kindly staff member pops their head through the doorway, as if they’re checking up on him (they definitely are) but finally, a nurse tells him that it “won’t be much longer now” and true to her word, about ten minutes later, a bed is wheeled past. He jumps up, but that same nurse appears in front of the door before he gets there, and tells him in no uncertain terms that she will come and get him _when he’s ready_ , not before.  
  
The next few minutes seem endless, but eventually, **eventually** he’s walking back along the ward, heading towards Dan. **Finally**.  
  
Honestly, he’s scared, terrified when he first sees him. Dan looks so little, so fragile in a way he’s not used to, still hooked up to a couple of IV lines, and with a mask obscuring most of his too-pale face that isn’t already covered by his fringe. He just doesn’t look like his Dan, and it worries Phil more than he wants to admit to himself.  
  
The nurse fusses over his sleeping boyfriend a little, before smiling reassuringly at Phil. He’s told once again that everything went well, and that Dan will probably sleep for a while still, as well as being a little drowsy or out of it still after he wakes, but that he will be just fine.  
  
He pulls the chair in Dan’s cubicle closer to the bed, and takes a seat as the nurse pulls the curtain partway closed before leaving them in semi-privacy. Phil’s attention is focused on Dan though, he barely notices anything else. Gently, carefully, he slides his hand under Dan’s, curled into a fist just in front of his face, and waits, stroking his thumb slowly over Dan’s knuckles.  
  
When Dan wakes, it’s not so different from normal, until he tries to speak, and slurs his words worse than Phil’s ever heard him when he’s drunk. He’s also frowning from the moment his brows twitch together before he even opens his eyes, and when Phil asks, he doesn’t even bother trying to claim he’s not in pain. Phil’s worried when the first dose of pain meds they give him have no effect whatsoever, but after a brief visit from a doctor, Dan relaxes visibly, and his eyes slide shut again for a little while.  
  
He takes the opportunity to sneak a photo of Dan in his hospital gown and mask on his phone, not for his own memories – there’s nothing about this that he wants to remember, or that he’ll ever forget, but he does remember Dan joking that at least “this’ll make a good video” so he figures he’ll appreciate the photo for that. He also messages both their families, reassuring them that the surgery is over and he’s with a sleeping Dan on the ward.  
  
The next time Dan wakes, he seems a lot more comfortable, even if his voice sounds strained. Phil helps him drink a little water, and finds his phone in his cabinet when he asks for it. Dan seems to have a little trouble focusing on the screen, but he smiles at the messages he’s received whilst he was sleeping, before he makes eye contact with Phil.  
  
“I’m going to call Mum” he says, grimacing slightly.  
  
“Oh, OK” Phil replies, carefully keeping his face and his voice neutral, whilst internally he panics. He tries to listen to the entirety of the call, but he struggles to hear anything apart from Dan’s hoarse side of the conversation. It’s not a long call, thankfully, and as he hangs up and lays his phone down on top of the blanket, Dan smiles at him tiredly.  
  
“They’re going to come up to see me – us this weekend. You need to tidy the flat” he says, reaching once more for Phil’s hand. “She says I’m lucky I have you” he continues, and that same part of Phil gives another lurch, but this once makes him happy, as Dan’s eyes slide shut once more.  
  
Hospital visits and surgery aside, they’re both lucky. And they know it.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not one to talk, but tell your important people important things, kids. TELL THEM. _cough_
> 
> Well, can't believe I eventually finished this fic. It's been partly done for-freaking-EVER, but it's done now. I hope you liked it! Thanks to Ablissa and mah Slack lovelies for all the encouragement whilst this one's been worked on and fiddled with... You guys are very patient saints! :D
> 
> Sue me, but I'm posting this on my 33rd birthday, so you should definitely leave kudos/comments or shout at/to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DryCerealThief) or [Tumblr](https://drycerealthief.tumblr.com) so I have something (hopefully nice!) to wake up to later! #NoShame ;0)


End file.
